


my kind's your kind

by mysweet_time (Otherworld)



Category: Anthropomorfic
Genre: Angst, F/M, History, Porn Battle, Worship, stupid sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 06:34:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otherworld/pseuds/mysweet_time
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They ended up on the floor in front of the fireplace, flames dancing across their faces, as they traded the bottle back and forth. She would never get used to how everything had changed over the centuries, unlike her, he went with the flow, but why wouldn’t he? He was hailed as a champion for family time, holiday cheer, fun, he was worshiped. She had been too, once upon a long time, she remembered bonfires and masks and prayers, now all she got was slutty costumes, the media denouncing her and snot-nosed children begging at strangers’ doors. It was why she never came to his parties, because part of her was just too bitter, but her heart at screamed at her to see him, to be with him, like ages ago, and she had finally listened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my kind's your kind

**Author's Note:**

> I don't knooow, I just love both of these holidays and the history involved with them and how they changed so much (especially Halloween). So, you know, whatever, more angst and history than porn, but what else is new? MY BAD. I think I'm starting to develop an obsession with anthropomorphic...damn, I'm screwed. Written for Porn Battle XV, please enjoy!

She really fucking hated winter, she hated the cold, the ice and the snow, the way everything seemed _dead_ , she much preferred her season. Where it wasn’t bone-chilling numb, colorful leaves, hot cider, warm donuts, laughter, and apple picking. Honestly, if it was anyone else, she wouldn’t leave her house until it was fucking spring, but it was him, and she’d do damn near _anything_ for him. It was why she had decided to go to his party, even though he hadn’t invited her, she knew why he didn’t, he thought she’d say no, like she had before.  
  
But that was then, she liked to think she was a different person. She paused in her walking (she had been walking for almost a mile, she never did like driving) when she caught the manor in her line of vision, it was hard to miss after all. It was covered in every color of light imaginable, there were plastic snowmen and Santas littering the lawn, anybody else’s place, it’d look garish as hell, but he somehow made it look classy. She shoved her gloved hands deeper into her pockets and hurried towards the large place he didn’t live in.  
  
Very few people knew that he only used the place for his yearly parties, he lived in a condo two States away. She heard the laughter before she even made it to the front door, she considered knocking, but figured she wouldn’t be heard, and she wasn’t surprised the door was unlocked, he trusted too much and too hard. She closed her eyes when she made it inside, enjoying the warmth from all the people, and the large fireplace. She wasn’t entirely sure who spotted whom first, but their eyes locked, despite the mass of bodies, and a surprised grin crossed his face, and he dodged and weaved through the crowd to get to her.  
  
His sweater was fucking hideous, traditional red and green colors with blinking lights on it, she wanted to rip it to shreds. He didn’t seem to notice her disdain though, his blue eyes bright as he pulled her into a one armed hug, his other hand occupied with a cup of eggnog that she hoped was laced with rum or whiskey. “You came, I didn’t think you’d show up.” He leaned down to speak in her ear, so he wouldn’t have to shout.  
  
She shrugged, tipping her head up, “You always show up for me, I figured I could return the favor.”  
  
And he did always show up on her day, always wearing a ridiculous costume, usually related to his own holiday. His smile brightened, and his grip tightened on her, “Come on, let’s go somewhere quieter.”   
  
She let him lead her through throngs of people that wouldn’t recognize her even though just less than two months prior, they were at her party, costumed and masked and drunk. His parties were always far more tame than hers were, people let go for her, people loved for him. Up winding staircases, through hallways, past multiple doors, before he pushed one open, leading her in and shutting the door behind them. He set his cup on a nearby table, and pulled her into his arms, practically crushing her in his tight embrace, as he buried his face in her dark hair. “I missed you.”  
  
She waited a beat or two before wrapping her arms around his waist, breathing in his scent, fir trees, snow, faint traces of alcohol, and she pressed closer to him. “I missed you too,” she admitted quietly, “I’m sorry I never-”  
  
“It doesn’t matter, you’re here now.” He cut her off, dropping a kiss to the top of her head before pulling back.  
  
She missed his touch almost immediately and forced herself not to reach out and grab him to pull him back to her. She didn’t have to worry though, because he started to tug off her leather gloves, dropping them onto the table, followed by her scarf, and then he unbuttoned her coat, shoving it off of her shoulders. His eyes widened when he caught sight of her outfit, and she turned her head away, “Shut up.” She muttered.  
  
“I didn’t say anything!”   
  
“But you were thinking it.” She had chosen her outfit just for him, instead of her leather and fishnets, she wore dark jeans and a bright red sweater, white snowflakes covering the front of it. Again, she thought it was the least she could do.  
  
He raised a hand to cup her cheek, turning her head back to face him, her dark eyes meeting his blue, and she wished he wasn’t so goddamn beautiful, so loving, if he wasn’t, she could easily stay away. But they had known each other for so long, years apart, years together, too close and not close enough. He stroked her cheekbone with his thumb, sending tingles down her spine. “You’re beautiful.”  
  
She couldn’t stop herself from smiling, and she shook her head. “Stop acting like I’m some goddess from on high, Chris.”  
  
He stepped back and shrugged, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. “You might as well be, Eve.”  
  
Nobody called her that but him, and she hadn’t heard it in so long, the sound of it made her turn and grab his cup, not even smelling if there was any alcohol in it before downing the drink. She closed her eyes, warmth spreading through her veins at the taste of rum, and he laughed, before tapping her arm with a bottle. She opened her eyes, turning her head to see him holding a full bottle of rum, “Saved this just in case.” He explained, and he opened the bottle, offering it to her.  
  
They ended up on the floor in front of the fireplace, flames dancing across their faces, as they traded the bottle back and forth. She would never get used to how everything had changed over the centuries, unlike her, he went with the flow, but why wouldn’t he? He was hailed as a champion for family time, holiday cheer, fun, he was worshiped. She had been too, once upon a long time, she remembered bonfires and masks and prayers, now all she got was slutty costumes, the media denouncing her and snot-nosed children begging at strangers’ doors. It was why she never came to his parties, because part of her was just too bitter, but her heart at screamed at her to see him, to be with him, like ages ago, and she had finally listened.   
  
She shivered and leaned into the fingers that traced down her jawline. “Where did you go?” His voice was soft.   
  
She just smiled weakly. “Nowhere important.”   
  
She didn’t want to talk anymore, or think, she just wanted to feel, she placed the almost empty bottle on the floor, and turned into him, pressing her mouth to his. Despite all the rum he had consumed, he still tasted like peppermint, tingling against her tongue. He sighed into the kiss and carded his fingers through her hair, pulling her closer. More than anything else, she had missed him, and how he treated her. She tugged at the hem of his still hideous fucking sweater, and he broke the kiss long enough for her to pull it over his head and toss it into the fireplace. “Hey! What was that for?” He frowned at her, but he clearly wasn’t angry.  
  
“Because it was ugly, and you’ve worn better, I just did you a favor.” She traced her fingernails down his chest. “Besides, we both know you have thousands of those damned things.”  
  
He laughed, and shrugged. “The lady has a point.”   
  
He made quick work of her own sweater, but neatly folded it instead, obviously making a point, as she rolled her eyes. He curled his hands around her ribcage, pulling her closer and pressing his lips against the swell of her breasts. She removed her bra for him, giving him better access, and she gasped when his mouth closed around her nipple, and she buried her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer. He trailed his mouth down her stomach, and she helped him remove her jeans, grunting in frustration when they got caught on her boots. He just laughed as she glared at him, he tugged off her boots and pulled down her jeans, before licking his way up her legs, sucking marks onto the inside of her thighs.  
  
She groaned in frustration when he ignored her center, instead sliding up her body, tangling his fingers into her hair to pull her into another deep kiss, pressing their bare chests together. She couldn’t stop her whimper no matter how hard she tried as his tongue swept up the roof of her mouth, and he nudged her thighs apart to settle between them. She wrapped her arms around him, digging her fingernails into his back as he moved his hips against hers, moaning as the denim of his jeans rubbed against her, but it wasn’t enough, it was never enough.   
  
She broke the kiss just enough to whisper against his lips, “Please, Chris, I missed you, _please_.”  
  
She rarely pleaded for anything, but she couldn’t help herself with him. His eyes were dark, and when he spoke, his usual light, cheerful voice was deep and rough. “Fuck, Eve, I love when you beg.”  
  
She scowled slightly, about to protest that she hadn’t begged, even though she had, when he reached down and ripped her panties off, she would have complained, but he slid two fingers inside of her and she let out a low keen. He used his free hand to tilt her head back, revealing her pale neck to him, and his lips attached themselves to her soft skin, sucking hard. He worshiped her like nobody had in years, and it made something swell deep inside her chest, so much so that she couldn’t even find it in herself to yell at him when he pulled his fingers free.  
  
Her fingers found his belt, tugging it off, she popped the button of his jeans and nearly ripped off his zipper, suddenly desperate for him. Hungry and frantic, her hands felt almost clumsy as she shoved down his pants and boxers just enough to gain access to him. She wrapped a hand around him, stroked and tugged until he was groaning and pushing his hips into her touch, when she knew he was ready, she guided him inside of her, and they both gasped. He buried his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling sharply, it felt so brand new, to be joined again after so long.  
  
She shifted her hips against him, and twisted them over so that he was pressed against the hardwood floor, his hands settling on her waist, fingers digging bruises into delicate skin as she rode him. He looked up at her with wonder and love in his eyes, and she felt like the goddess she claimed she wasn’t, he made her _feel_ again, and she leaned down to capture his mouth in a hard, bruising kiss. She could still hear the laughter from the people downstairs, and she wanted to laugh right back at them, to tell them _he’s mine, he’s always been mine, long before any of you knew he existed_.   
  
But she didn’t, told him the words instead, and his response of _just like you are mine, always_ made her clench around him, her orgasm rushing through her as her head fell back. He thrusted into her roughly, as she continued to ride out the waves of pleasure, and it wasn’t long before he spilled into her. Afterwards, she curled up against his side, sleepy, warm and cozy, covered with a blanket she didn’t see him retrieve. “I’m sorry.” She murmured, idly tracing patterns against his chest.  
  
“For what?” He brushed some of her hair out of her face.  
  
“I didn’t bring you a gift, I kinda ignored tradition.”  
  
He just laughed, shook his head. “Don’t you always do that anyway? And besides, you showing up, being here with me...it’s gift enough, couldn’t ask for a better one.”  
  
She buried her face into his chest to hide her smile, curled tighter against him and decided she would show up to more of his parties. After all, they were always happiest together than apart.


End file.
